Little Gage By:  Sage Rory The Police Officer banged for the third time, on the door of an apartment in an old run down building.  The officer shrugged his shoulders at his partner, and the two began to leave.  The sound of rusty hinges squeaking behind them caused them to whip back around, placing their hands on their weapons.  A small, dirty, sandy-haired boy ducked back inside in fear, and tried to slam the door shut again.  The taller of the two officers was quick, and he kept the door from closing all of the way.  He put his back to the wall along side the door, and gently pushed it open again. "Police Officers," he informed any occupants.  No one answered him.  In one quick move, he jumped in front of the door, and bounced safely to its other side, while his partner then took the place he had just occupied.  The man gave him a questioning look, to which he shook his head. "Police Office's," he shouted again.  Still no one answered him.  The officer jumped again into the doorway, gun drawn and ready for anything.  The stench inside made him nauseous, causing the chili dog he had finished a half an hour earlier to leap up into the back of his throat.  As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he realized many eyes stared back at him.  He attempted to turn on the lights only to discover they weren't working.  He moved over, gun still drawn, to try a lamp but it too would not work.  Nervously, he stepped back out into the hallway. "I don't know what this is.  Whoever they are, they're not acting normally at all.  Call for back up, and make sure they bring flashlights, ANY lights.  The more the better." His partner radioed in as asked, using his handie talkie.  Looking up at a hall light, the Officer began to remove his jacket, keeping an eye on the doorway.  "Give me a boost, Carl," he requested, foot raised at ready. Carl looked up at the light, then at the door, then back at the light.  He cupped his hands, and lifted the man high enough to unscrew the light bulb, plunging the hallway into darkness.  Carl cursed aloud.  His partner, Evan, normally would have laughed, then chastised him for using such language.  At the moment; however, he was too busy cursing himself for not having waited for backup to arrive before trying to figure out a way to shed some light on the mystery within the apartment.  Very cautiously, he stepped inside, and replaced the light bulb in a lamp near the door.  His heart jumped, and pounded in his chest when it popped and threw a few sparks.  Still, the lamp came on and he was able to look around.  The eyes that stared at him all belonged to children.  He scanned the room back and forth, but all he could see were children.  There were fifteen or more.  The oldest looked to be about twelve, the youngest, three. Stepping back into the hall, he told Carl, "Call for Children's Services.  They're not gonna believe this!" The children were taken into protective custody.  The Social Worker that arrived tried to call for her own backup when she realized how many children were involved.  After a number of phone calls, she gave up.  Three ambulances took them first to a hospital to be checked over.  Later she would have to try to find places for them all to stay, at least for the remainder of the night.  Inside, she felt devastated.  She had two cases of neglect living in this very building, only one story below.  Who would have thought that a room full of children, in even more desperate need, were so close by every time she made her rounds. Six Police Officers began to search the apartment as soon as the last child was removed.  They had no desire to do the thorough search they would need to do in front of them, and traumatize them further.  As they worked, they searched for drugs, guns, and any other evidence of illegal actions that may have taken place in the apartment, especially any that involved the children.  They didn't have to look far.  In one corner of the living room, though the apartment held no food, clothing, or other necessities of life, was hundreds of dollars worth of camera equipment.  With it, were countless photos of disgusting nature.  The photo's contained not only child pornography, but also showed unspeakable acts of molestation.  Aside from that, they found a box of costumes that could only be described as 'Adult Play' outfits; but these clothes could never fit an adult. Carl began to search a bedroom closet.  He held a bright light aloft, as he began to pull out some of its very full contents, and set them on the floor behind him. "SHIT!" he shouted, dropping the light and breaking the bulb. "What!" Evan asked hurrying to his side. "A RAT!" "A rat?" Evan laughed. "It's not funny.  Biggest damned rat I've ever seen!" Evan showed his own light into the closet.  "I don't see anything Carl." "I'm telling you, SOMTHING'S IN THERE!" Evan flashed his light again, and began to move some things around.  He jumped back when something he had not touched moved, ever so slightly, by itself. "Problem Evan?!" Carl hooted. "Caught me off guard is all." "Uh huh." Evan drew his baton, and slammed it against the offending box.  The short sound that followed was anything but 'rat'. "Oh my God," Evan breathed, paling at what he'd just done.  Pulling the box forward, he found it was only half of a box.  Behind it, sat a small, dark-haired boy, tucked so far into himself, a caterpillar would have been proud.  "I'm sorry," he pleaded, "It's all right.  It's okay.  I'm a Policeman.  I won't hurt you."  When he touched the boy, he found his muscles were so tense, it felt more like he was made of wood, than flesh.  He managed to get his hands around his thin arms and lift him out.  The boy, however, remained folded up. Carl laughed at his partner's struggles to carry him out into the living room, staying as if a perfect statue.  Once in the light, his laughing stopped.  The boy was covered with bruises from head to toe.  The fact that he wore only a pair of undershorts, made this blatantly apparent. "Someone get a blanket," Evan requested. Since they knew there were no blankets to be found in the place, one of the other officers removed his jacket.  Evan felt guilty for not having had on his own jacket to offer.  However, he felt even more guilty for the large red mark on the boy's leg, on it's way to becoming quite a bruise, and joining company with the others. "I'll call one of the ambulances back," Carl offered, reaching for his radio. "No," Evan answered, "let's just take him." "Okay," Carl agreed, the sooner they got him to a hospital the better. Evan tried to get a grip on the boy that he believed wouldn't hurt him.  He yanked his hand back, stinging and surprised. "What?" Carl asked. "He bit me," Evan replied calmly. "HE WHAT?" one of the other officers shouted. "HE'S SCARED TO DEATH!" Evan shouted back in his defense.  The anger in his voice startled everyone, including himself.  He wrapped the jacket more snugly around the child, then picked him up, much as one might lift a box.  The boy again stayed as solid and unmoving as a statue.  It would have been a perfect circus act, had the situation not been so tragic.                   ~/~/~/~/~ "Can you BELIEVE this kid?" Nurse Evelyn asked an orderly as she tried for a fifth time to get the small dark-haired boy to untuck himself, and lay down. The orderly simply shrugged back. "Look, if you don't lay down, we can't help you!" Evelyn cried impatiently as she tried to pry the boy's arms from around his legs. "Is there a problem?" a Doctor asked, approaching. "I can handle it," she answered. "Have I seen this one yet?" he asked, trying to feel around the boy's throat, and finding he couldn't. "No, they just brought him in.  I haven't started a chart on him yet, cause he's not exactly being cooperative." "Evelyn...get me one milligram diazepam." "One?" "I want him to sleep." The doctor rubbed the boys arm gently, before swabbing it, and injecting the medication.  He fought the effects bravely, but was no match.  His muscles started to relax, and the doctor tried to lift up his head. "OW!" he shouted, looking down at the teethmarks in his hand.  He ignored Evelyn trying to help him, and bandaged it himself.  This time he waited until it was obvious the child was much farther gone.  Patient despite the offense, he finally managed to lay him down.  Under all the battering, he saw a beautiful child, a high priced child, the kind certain adults loved to be with.  "He's a fighter all right," he told himself.  He knew the only way the so called 'owners' of a child like this would damage him in this way would be for one of two reasons; he was impossibly uncooperative, or some one paid an awful lot of money to do it.  Considering what he'd observed so far, he figured it was the former.  Turning the boy on to his stomach, and examining his backside; he found in a sad mixture of amusement and pride, that the fighting little imp had somehow managed to keep himself from being violated yet in that way.  Unfortunately, none of the other children he'd looked at so far could say the same.  Placing him on his back again, he examined all the bruising more closely. "Why would anyone do this?" his conscience wondered aloud. "He wouldn't play!" a little red-haired girl, complete with freckles and pig tales told him. "He wouldn't--" "Shut up Trixie!" an older girl warned.  Trixie frowned back and eyed a jar of suckers, then looked expectantly back at the doctor. He smiled and pulled the jar down.  "Is this what you want?" She smiled back and nodded her head.  He gave her a sucker and lifted her up on to the gurney next to the sleeping dark-haired boy. "NO!" she screamed pushing away. Setting her on the floor, she calmed down.  "What's the matter sweetheart?" "He won't play!" "What won't he play?" "Anything!" "Like what?" "If you make him play, he'll bite you!" "Trixie, he never bit you!" the older girl scolded. "Soooooo, he might." The older girl rolled her eyes. The doctor looked at the older girl and asked, "Do you know who did this to--" "Seven." "Steven?" "No, Seven, that's his name." "This little boy's name is--" "No, Seven is our boss." "Your boss?" "Yeah, you know, the big BOSS MAAAANN!" "Why did he do this?" "Trixie already told you," she answered getting annoyed, "he wouldn't play." "What wouldn't he play?" "Chicken Bobber," Trixie cut in, happy to be able to answer, and get the attention back on herself. "How do you play Chicken Bobber?" The girl turned shy and quiet.  "Don't remember." The Doctor looked back to the older of the two. "Does it matter?" she asked.  "He wouldn't do it.  The man got really mad and wanted his money back.  Seven wouldn't give it to him.  He told him to pick another kid.  He should have just given the guy his money.  Instead the guy took ALL the money, and Seven couldn't do a thing about it.  When he left--" "I get the picture," the Doctor said, stopping her. "It's not like he never let him have it before you know.  All he had to do was what they told him.  I hardly EVER get hit.  He knew he'd get it again sooner or later, guess he wanted it sooner.  It was his own fault!" The Doctor rubbed his eyes at the amount of brain washing these kids had undergone, and wondered which in the end would be better off; the ones who would later beat themselves up for not having fought more, or the ones that fought so hard, they brought more misery down on their heads, and would probably never trust anyone.  He again looked at the sleeping boy, such a beautiful child; he could easily imagine him stealing the hearts of any adult he chose to smile at.  He wondered what would become of all of these children, but this one, he wondered about most of all.                       ~/~/~/~/~ The phone rang in Captain Stanley's office for the seventh time as both the squad and the engine backed into their places.  Cap's keen ear caused him to jump down from the rig, and run for the phone before Mike had even finished parking it. "Station 51, Captain Stanley speaking," he answered, a little out of breath.  "Who?  Yeah, he works here, just a minute.  GAGE!" Johnny turned back from the kitchen door that he was about to enter, and slid his way toward his Captain's office, tripping at the doorway.  "Oops, sorry," he laughed. "Phone." "Me?" "YES yooou." "Thanks Cap." Hank Stanley left the room and Johnny closed the door behind him.  "Hello?" he asked into the receiver. "Is this John Roderick Gage?" "Uhhhh, yeah.  Who's calling?" "This is Michele Williams.  I'm a Social Worker for the state of Colorado, for the city of Colorado Springs, actually." "A Social Worker?" "Yes sir.  I have some questions for you, if you're able to answer them.  I realize you're at work, but we were unable to get a home phone on you as yet.  If you could give me your home number, I can call you back at a better time." "Nooo, that's all right.  Just ah, well I'm a fireman, so if I have to hang up on you quick, don't take it personally, okay?" "I understand.  Do you know a woman by the name of Ashley McConnely?" A prickly sensation started at the back of Johnny's neck.  "Yeah...well, I did, I haven't seen her in quite some time actually.  Is she okay?  Is she hurt?" "Actually Mr. Gage, I regret to have to inform you that she is...she has passed away." "Oh...oh man.  You trying to locate her parents, or--" "Not exactly.  Did you ah...how can I put this delicately.  Did you and Miss McConnely ever have relations?" "Relations?!" "Sexual relations." Johnny rubbed vigorously at his eyes.  "Look, lady, who are you again?" "I'm a social worker for Colorado Springs, Colorado." "What exactly is it you want?" "What exactly it is that I want, is to try to find the father of a little boy." Johnny sat stunned, staring at the phone. "Mr. Gage?" "Uh...yeah...I'm still here." "We spoke with a friend of Miss McConnely's, and she told us that Ashley claimed the father was a man named John Gage.  As you may know, she was born in Montana, and lived on an Indian Reservation until she was eighteen years of age.  We called the Council at the Reservation, and they told us the only John Gage they knew of was John Roderick Gage.  The man there gave us the phone number of an aunt and uncle of yours, and they gave us your phone number here, but said they hadn't spoken to you in a while, and didn't have your home number. "Yeah, I ah, bought a house a while back, and I never got around to...look, who was this friend?  How did Ashley die?" "Miss McConnely died in a car accident shortly after her boy was taken into custody." "Custody?" "Protective custody." "For WHAT?" "Mr. Gage, I don't mean to be impolite, but I'm not at liberty to discuss all of the details of this case with you.  All I'm trying to do right now is to prove or disprove the friends claim.  It is quite possible Miss McConnely lied about the parentage.  It's possible she didn't know WHO the father was, and just came up with a name to tell herself.  It wouldn't be the first time.  In fact, the boy's name is given as Coty McConnely on his birth certificate, so at the time of his birth, it is probable she hadn't even decided you were the father yet, if you see what I'm saying.  Now, not to be too personal, but could you tell me if it's even POSSIBLE that you are the father?"  Johnny sighed heavily.  "Yeah...I mean--" "Okay, all I'll I need from you is to go to a County Hospital or Clinic and have some blood drawn.  The state of Colorado will pay the bill, and to have the blood shipped to us.  If you are the father, we will be in touch to get you to sign off on the child to make it possible for him to be adopted." "NOW WAIT A MINUTE!" "Look Mr. Gage, it won't cost you anything but a few minutes of you time.  No one is trying to get money from you, or--" "WHO SAID ANYTHING ABOUT MONEY!  LOOK," Johnny said.  He looked at the door and lowered his voice, not wanting to draw attention.  "Look, if he IS mine, obviously I want to SEE him." "Mr. Gage, I don't advise--" "Where in Colorado Springs are you located?" "Sir?" "Your address, where are you?" "It isn't necessary for you to come all of the way--" "Yes it is." "There is a good chance you're not even the father!" "Just give me the address, okay?" "I'm at One Seventeen North Mills Drive.  It's located between the--" "That's all I need, I can read a map.  Thanks.  I'll be there as soon as I'm able." "Mr. Gage--" "Thanks," Johnny said again as he hung up the phone.  'Oh man, wait a minute.  I don't even know how old this kid is!  Then again, if I try to call her back, I'm gonna look like a fool!  It can't be mine..can it?  What if it is?  Oh man, what am I gonna do?  How far is Colorado?  Man, that was stupid.  It would be a lot easier to just go to Rampart...well, maybe a Clinic...no.  Have my blood shipped around?  What if there was a mix up?  No, I've got to go.  Do this right.  It's the responsible thing to do.' "Johnny?" Roy asked, banging on the door. Johnny tried to compose himself before opening it.  "Yeah!" "What're you doing?" "On the phone, Roy!" "Girl?" Roy teased. "Yeah, but not like that." "What kind is there Gage?" Chet taunted, waxing the engine. Johnny made a steadying hand gesture to himself, telling himself not to let Chet get to him.  Instead of taking the bait, he ignored him, and left for the kitchen. "What was that?" Chet asked Roy. Roy shrugged and followed his partner.  Johnny was pouring himself a glass of milk as he walked into the kitchen.  "You okay, you look a little pale." "I'm fine!" "Really?" "Sure!" "All right.  If you say so.  What was the call about?" "Oh...just...stuff." "Stuff huh?" "Yeah, just...stuff."  Johnny set his empty glass down, and headed for the door. "Where ya goin?" "Ah...locker room...for a minute...just...locker room." "You sure you're okay?" "YEAH, Roy...I'm FINE!"  After their next run, which pulled Johnny out of hiding, he managed to pull it together, and act more or less normal.  The following morning, after breaking some plans with the DeSoto family during their four-day weekend, and avoiding all the questions as to 'why', Johnny hurried home.  He dug out some maps, and planned his route.  After packing the essentials, and a lunch, he headed out for Colorado.  At the very least, he told himself, it would be a nice trip, scenery wise.  He loved road trips.  Driving cross-country was hardly new to him.  Therefore, he knew it wasn't the long drive into new territory that was causing the nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach.  He tried to reason with himself that the child more than likely wasn't his.  They had only done it the one time, and that was YEARS ago.  He'd probably find out the kid was only three or something.  He was using it as an excuse for the road trip was all, and to make sure there was no doubt in anyone's mind about the accuracy of any tests they'd have to do.  This way they could draw more if they had to, and the less handling, the better.  Also, this way, he wouldn't have to sit around waiting, and wondering for who knows how long.  No, he told himself, best to get it all settled as quickly as possible. Johnny arrived in Colorado Springs well after dark.  After buying a city map, and driving around, trying to locate the Social Welfare office, he became confused with all the one way streets, and finally pulled into a twenty-four hour WalMart.  He went in for some milk and stuff for sandwiches, had a meal in the dark, then crawled into the back for some sleep. The following morning, he awoke at eight sharp.  It took him only five minutes to find the place he wanted in the daylight, but was then disappointed to find the offices didn't open until nine.  For the next fifty-five minutes, he ran through all of the radio stations nine times, and played drums to seven songs by hitting his thumbs against the steering wheel.  At two minutes after nine, he started to consider hitting his HEAD against the steering wheel, but then a tall slender woman in a long black dress approached the front of the building, carrying keys and juggling a large box.  Johnny jumped out and sprinted to the doorway. "I'll hold on to that if you like," he offered as she struggled to unlock the door. She glared at him for a moment, but then surrendered the box.  "I'm John Gage," he said offering his hand once the door was opened. She ignored the hand, took the box back, and left him standing in the doorway. "I uh...can I come in now?  Ma'am?" "Excuse me," another woman behind him said, trying to get past him, and into the building. "OH, I'm sorry.  I didn't--" When he turned around, she did a double take, but covered herself quickly.  "It's all right.  Can I help you?" "Yeah, uuuh...I'm here to...I'm...I'm looking for Michele Williams." "I'm Michele Williams." "Oh, um...I'm John Gage." The lady stared at him blankly. "John Roderick--" "OH!  YES!  You...you really flew all the way here?" "Nn...no actually, I drove." "You DROVE?!" "Yeah.  I do it all the time.  I LIKE to drive." "You must!" "Um...well...can I see him?" "We don't even know if he's yours yet!" "I...I know, but...well...how old is he?" "Don't you think you should have asked that BEFORE you came here?" "Yeah.  Well...yeah, I guess so.  But I'm here now and..." "He's eight.  Does that calm you or scare you?" Johnny started to count backwards on his fingers, starting at twenty-seven.  "Nineteen," he said to himself. "What?" "Nineteen." "And..." ".....maybe." "All right.  Let's get you some paper work, then since you DROVE, you can drive yourself over to the hospital and get a blood test." "Okay," he answered, following her into an overcrowded office.  Boxes of files were sitting here and there, in seeming disarray, but she went directly into one, and came back with the form he would need.  Then she spun back to her desk, shuffled through a drawer for a second, and handed him another paper.  "Here, fill out the first one, and give them this.  The state will pay for--" "You already told me that," he answered flatly. She ignored his tone and just looked at him as he read through the paper he had to fill out.  He glanced up, and realized she was staring at him. "What?" he asked. "What what?  You going or not?" "YEAH I'M GOING!  I DROVE ALL THE WAY HERE DIDN'T I?" He headed hotly out the door. "Mr. Gage?" "Yes!" "Do you know where the hospital is?" He dropped his head with an embarrassed sigh, making her smile.  She wordlessly wrote down some directions, and handed them over. "Thanks," he whispered quietly. "Your welcome," she whispered back in an exaggerated manner. He blushed deep red and hurried out the door. "Oh boy!" Michele said loudly to herself once he was gone. "Problem Michele?" another woman asked as she passed in the hall. "I hope not."                         ~/~/~/~/~ Johnny impatiently kicked at the back of the hard plastic chair in front of him in the hospital waiting room.  Looking around, he noticed an elderly woman glaring at him, making him stop his actions, foot in half swing.  He smiled at her, and shrugged, to which she looked the other way.  Sighing, he looked at his watch for the hundredth time.  He'd already been there for three hours.  The rumbling of his stomach reminded him he hadn't eaten since his make shift dinner in his car, the night before.  He picked up a magazine, but couldn't even make his mind focus on the pictures, much less the words.  Impatiently tossing it back on the table, the lady gave him another nasty look, before again turning away. "Mr. Gage?" "Yeah," he squeaked. "I have the results of your test, if you'd like to come into my office." "Sure," Johnny said, glancing back to see the woman sneering at the reference, thinking who know what kind of a test it was. The doctor motioned for Johnny to sit in a chair in front of his desk, and Johnny sat, not wanting to be impolite.  What he really wanted to do was to rip away the folder that was in the man's hands, and run to his car to read it.  "Nervous?" the doctor asked, closing his door. "NO!  I mean...a little I guess.  I mean--" "Then I won't keep you in suspense any longer." He paused, making Johnny think, 'yeah right', but he refrained from saying anything. "Well, the tests show that you ARE the father of the child in question." "I am," Johnny repeated aloud, as if trying to make the news sink in. "Yes." "What...what do I do now?" "Well...you should take this with you over to Social Services.  What you should do after that is up to you, but I'm sure they'll love to discuss it with you." Johnny took the form that the doctor handed to him, and hurried to his Rover. "Oh man," he said to himself, gripping the wheel as a wave of dizziness washed over him.  "Oh man, this can't be happening.  I CAN'T be."  He rested his head for a moment against his arm, forcing himself to take slow deep breaths.  Raising his head, he saw the same woman from the waiting room, again looking at him as she walked toward her own car.  "Would you STOP STARING AT ME!" he shouted in annoyance.  The woman quickly looked away and fumbled for her keys, dropping them on the pavement.  It was obvious she was going to have a difficult time bending down to pick them up, so feeling guilty, Johnny jumped out of his car, and retrieved them for her.  "I'm sorry," he told her as she took them from his hand. "Who asked you," she replied giving him a shove out of her way. Johnny heaved a sigh, and returned to his own vehicle.  Seeing the all too important piece of paper laying on the passengers seat, he resigned himself to driving back to the Social Welfare office, and facing up to a deed he'd done long ago.  Since Michele's office door was open, he stood in her doorway, and tapped on the glass next to the door. "Yeah," Michele asked without looking up from her desk. "I uh..." "Yes," she prodded unemotionally. "I am you see.." Johnny stammered opening the piece of paper for her to read.  "You are what?" she asked as if she'd never seen him before. "I'm the...I'm the father of...of the boy you called--" "Oh," she answered finally looking at him.  "Okay, well, we'll get you out of here as soon as possible...how does that sound?" "Soon as...really?  Ah...good I guess.  I--" "All right now, why don't you start filling out...these" she said handing him some forms, "and I'll be right back." With that, she left him to himself.  Taking a cleansing breath, Johnny sat down in a chair, and started to fill out the paper work.  It all appeared to be pretty standard stuff, name, age, date of birth blanks...nothing too hard.  He hurried through it as quickly as he could.  Halfway through, he started to read some of the pages he'd been handed.  One word caught his eye ........... relinquishing.  Going back through the forms he had already filled out, it dawned on him what she was having him do.  The first forms were to give them information about himself, but two others, tucked into the middle, were to give up custody of the child he'd never met, and to leave him a ward of the state.  It angered him that he had so quickly and so blindly filled them out, without reading them first.  He folded all of the papers up, and stuffed them uncomfortably into his pocket.  Two could play at this game. "Are you finished?" Michele asked, hurrying back into the room. "I'm sorry, what?" "The paper work, do you need some help filling it out?" "Paperwork?  Oh...yeah.  We can get to that later.  Where's my son?" "Your...he's at the Boys Center for Growth and Development downtown, until we can place him." "Place him?" "Yes, with foster parents.  We'll do the best we can to find a loving couple to--" "YOU ARE AWFULLY PRESUMPTUOUS, AREN'T YOU!" "Excuse me?!" "Why don't you ask me if I'd even like to SEE my child, before handing me a bunch of papers to GIVE HIM UP!" "LOOK, up to an hour ago, you didn't know you HAD a child.  Up to two days ago, you didn't know there was even the POSSIBILITY!  Then again, maybe I'm wrong, maybe you have several..possibilities..running around." "NOW WAIT JUST A MINUTE!" "I apologize.  That was out of line.  But let's be reasonable.  You're a single man right?" "Right." "Do you really think you can give an eight year old boy you've never even met a good home?  A better home than--" "Than what?!  I just want to see him first, before I go making all these decisions about his LIFE...is that to much to ask?!" "You want to see him." "YES!  That's what I've been asking for since I GOT here!" "All right fine!  But do me one favor.  Don't go telling him you're his father, buying him some cheap toys, then run off back to LA and leave him to wonder what he'd done to make you leave.  See him, look at him, talk to him if you must...but don't tell him who you are.  Deal?" "That's nuts.  He has the right to know--" "Just don't go running off at the mouth to him until you decide what you're going to do, is that too much to ask?" "No." "So we have a deal?" "Yeah, right, fine.  You have a deal." "Let me tell Judy we're going and we'll be on our way." Johnny waited impatiently, the nervousness starting to creep in. "You ready," she asked, startling him. "Yeah, do you want me to follow you, or go in your--" "What ever you want is fine by me." "I'll follow you then." On the way, Johnny could swear she was trying to loose him by the way she was driving.  "MAN...what is WITH this lady!" he shouted out in frustration as she again changed lanes. Ten minutes later, they pulled up to an old brick building, surrounded on three sides by a fence.  At first glance, it looked very much like a school, but as they made their way down the halls, Johnny could see the rooms each contained two beds, rather than many desks.  They paused at an office with wiring covering its windows.  While Michele talked to a woman inside, Johnny was drawn further down the hall by the sound of children playing.  Michele gladly let him wander out of earshot. "Your kidding," the woman inside asked her, "you have one that WANTS to see the kid?" "Yep.  Not only that, but he DROVE here from Los Angeles." "Oh boy." "Oh don't worry about it.  My bet is he'll get one look, and start running the other way.  Even if he gets the courage up to talk to him, he promised me he wouldn't shoot his mouth off...and anyway, once he tries to talk to HIS kid, he'll definitely be out the door.  I just hope I'll be able to hang on to him long enough to get him to finish filling out the papers." Down the hallway, Johnny let himself outside, and stood next to the fence as he watched several boys play.  He started to try to pick him out for himself.  He knew he was eight, so he imagined he'd be just a little shorter than Roy's boy Chris.  Weeding out the ones he figured were too tall or too short, he started looking at the faces of all of those with blond hair, as the mother's had been.  He searched them for her eyes, her smile.  None of them looked familiar.  He noticed a woman who appeared to be in charge of the boys, staring at him.  He smiled, and she smiled in return.  Just past her head, he caught a glimpse of something.  At first he thought he saw himself as a small child around four, but before his eyes could focus, the image was gone.  In its place, he saw many boys in what appeared to be a fight, but then seemed to be part of a game.  The group that had drawn his attention quickly darted into a door on the other side of the yard, and disappeared. "Tag I'll bet," Johnny said to himself. "Excuse me?" Michele asked right behind him. He looked at her, wondering exactly when it was that she had followed him out. "You seen enough yet?" "No!" "Angela!" Michele called out to the lady that had smiled at him. Angela joined them by the fence. "Yes," she asked. "Could you get--" "Coty McConnely, sure...he was just here a minute ago," she said turning and scanning the boys.  "Well..." she said aloud, a bit peeved, "now where did he go?" "Some boys ran in that door over there," Johnny offered, pointing out the one. "We'll meet you over there," Michele told her as an argument broke out between two boys on a set of monkey bars. "Sure," Angela agreed, "I'll head over there in a minute.  And do me a favor?  Send the other ones back outside.  They know they are not allowed in there this time of day without a teacher.  And if Coty's not one of them, let me know and I'll keep looking." "No problem Angela," Michele agreed, guiding Johnny back into the building, and down the halls. "Hello Michele!" another woman said, walking toward them from the opposite direction. "Hello Bethany.  This is Mr. Gage, he's here to see--" "Coty, isn't he out in the yard?" "No Angela didn't see him.  We think some of the boys might have gone into the west dorm." "Well we can sure look," she agreed amiably. As they got closer, sure enough, they could hear boy's voices coming from one of the rooms.  Walking in the door, they saw four boys had a fifth, smaller boy, pinned down to a bed.  His shirt was pulled up, and the largest boy was shouting at him to cry, as he struck him across the stomach with a folded belt. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Bethany screamed at them. Three of them scrambled as she grab the largest by the wrist, and pulled him from the room and down the hall, shouting at him as she went.  Once freed, the small boy slid off the bed, and scooted underneath it.  Johnny got a good look at him as he went, and there could be no doubt...this fifth boy, was his son. Turning around, he realized they were alone.  Michele has disappeared as well, presumably in chase after of the other three.  Johnny waited for several moments for them to return.  When they didn't, he decided to make a move on his own.  Getting down on his hands and knees, he peered under the bed. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," Bethany warned as she came back into the room. "Do...do what?" Johnny asked, getting to his feet. "Reach under there, he'll--" "I'm sorry Mr. Gage," Michele interrupted, bursting back into the room.  "It would be better if maybe you came back tomorrow." "Tomorrow?!  Aren't either of you going to get him out of there?" Bethany snorted a laugh. "Yes we'll get him out, but it will take some time.  I suggest--" "Time?  Look, he might be hurt.  You saw what they were doing!" "We'll give him some time to come out on his own.  If he doesn't--" "We'll get out the tranquilizer gun," Bethany interjected. "Bethany!  We will handle it Mr. Gage." "The beds are bolted to the floor," Bethany informed him.  "Don't know whose bright idea that was, but there are the only two choices, he comes out on his own, or someone has to get him out; at which time we'll call in the professionals." "Profess...I'm a Paramedic.  I've dealt with scared kids lots of times." "Not like this you haven't," Michele disagreed. "How would you know?!" "Mr. Gage, there's a lot YOU don't know.  This child is a ward of the state, and you were brought here as a courtesy.  I am now telling you to leave.  TOMORROW," she added before he could reply, "I'll check out the situation, and see if it would be possible for you to see him." "SEE him?  He's right under--" "LEAVE MR. GAGE!" "I WILL NO--" "If I have to call the Police to remove you, I will." "WHY ARE YOU BEING SO...DON'T YOU EVEN CARE HE MAY BE HURT UNDER--" "Bethany, call--" "I'm going!" Johnny stormed out, not knowing what else he could do, and not wanting any legal trouble.  Back at his Rover, he paced back and forth in anger. "Mr. McConnely?" a voice asked behind him. He turned to see who had spoken. "Hi remember me?  I'm Angela." "From the yard," Johnny acknowledged.  "I'm John Gage." "Oh I'm sorry, I just thought since--" "It's all right.  It was a fair assumption." "I knew which one was yours the moment I saw you.  He looks just like you.  Anyone could see that." "Not anyone." "What do you mean?" "I mean Miss Williams.  She played me like a finely tuned fiddle." "I take it you're single then." "Yeah, what has that got to do with--" "She doesn't much like single mothers...single fathers...she can't imagine any guy being capable of raising a kid." "Or even seeing one." "Look, I don't know if I should tell you this but..." "What?" "Tomorrow is Thursday." "Yeah...and..." "Every other Thursday, the court goes through petitions from people with their kids in state care.  Some want custody returned, others want visitation...it's a little late, but you could fill out a form and see if you can ask the judge for formal permission to see him.  I honestly don't know anything about the legal end of things...but if the Judge says you can see him...I'm sure Michele would think twice about giving you a hard time about it again." "Go to court?  This is nuts.  I just wanted to see him." "You don't want him then?" "I...I honestly don't know.  I don't know what to do!" "Well," she said, handing him yet another form, "you can start with this.  Get it down to the courthouse right away though.  It'll probably be too late.  They only get through so many in one day, but it's worth a shot." "Michele said she'd probably let me see him tomorrow." "I wouldn't hold my breath on that one if I were you." Johnny filled out the form, and turned it into a clerk at the courthouse.  Out of the corner of his eye as he left, he saw one woman whisper into the ear of the clerk, then saw the clerk move his form way down the pile toward the front.  He frowned at the act as it poked at his sense of fairness to the other forms, but he also didn't want to offend an act of kindness by letting them know that he'd noticed.  He wondered why on earth either of the two woman would care either way about that particular piece of paper, but stopped wondering as he saw the first woman get in a car with Angela from the Center, and Angela smile and wave at him. Johnny's stomach gnawed at him angrily, protesting that though it was nearing four o'clock, it had yet to receive a breakfast or a lunch.  'Tomorrow,' he thought to himself as he drove to a fast-food restaurant to feed the beast within.  He had no idea what would take place, or how these things worked.  Would he have to answer a bunch of questions?  Would he even be sworn in?  The hamburger turned into a rock in his stomach as he ate, but he forced the rest of it down anyway.  With nothing else to do, he drove back to the center, and parked across the street, wondering what sorts of things were happening inside.  Surely nothing like what he had seen earlier.  That had to have been a mistake, a slight slip in keeping all of the kids in check.  As he looked, the building looked less and less like a school, and more and more like a prison.  On the other hand, maybe Michele was right, did he really have anything better to offer this kid than what they might be able to find him here?  She had said after all, that they were working on placing him in foster care with a loving couple. As the thought crossed his mind, he saw Michele drive away from the center.  Even if he had not remembered the car, the way she drove it was unmistakable.  "Guess she WASN'T trying to get rid of me," he thought aloud as she zipped between two lanes.  "On the other hand, she definitely doesn't like me."  Since she was gone, Johnny got brave and ventured up to the outside fence to look around.  To his surprise, the kids all still seemed to be outside.  He scanned them back and forth, this time looking for dark hair instead of blond.  He waited patiently for different ones to turn around, but time after time, he found himself staring at the back of the wrong kid.  "Maybe he's not even out here," he murmured quietly,  "Hope they got him out from under the bed by now.  What was with those kids?  Hope he's all right.  He wasn't crying...but that HAD to hurt...a LOT.  Why wasn't he crying?"  Johnny sighed in disappointment.  He was running out of dark-haired kids the right size, and now a teacher was lining them up to go inside.  One boy ignored her, and remained sitting against a wall with his head down in his arms.  The others started inside as she went to fetch the straggler who wouldn't obey her order to line up.  She pulled him roughly to his feet, but his feet came too, as he remained folded up.  Her shouting caught Johnny's full attention, and he wondered at the sight.  How could a child do that?  His teacher over prompting nearly had Johnny jumping the fence to tell her to lay off.  The boy unfolded, and allowed himself to be pushed toward the door.  There he was again, the boy with his face, but something was wrong; he was far too small.  His son was eight, while this boy was shorter than Roy's daughter at six.  Another rough push by the teacher, and Johnny could no longer contain himself.  "HEY," he shouted, but if she heard him, he didn't know, because the heavy door slammed shut behind her, blocking his view.                        ~/~/~/~/~ After spending another night trying to get some sleep in the back of his Rover, Johnny went into the WalMart restroom, and did his best to get washed up.  He told himself if he could truly believe Michele would allow him to see his child that day, he would be driving to the Center, rather than to the courthouse.  Once there; however, he decided to give her a call.  After being told Michele would not be in the office at all that day, he knew he'd made the right choice.  Nine o'clock sharp, a judge started to go through the petitions.  "All right, who's first?" the judge asked sifting through a stack of folders.  Johnny's stomach knotted up as the judge picked one out of the stack, seemingly at random.  Surely such a thing was not allowed.  How could that be fair? "Chad Stanwick...Miss Williams, did the mother make it here today?" "I haven't seen her yet your honor," Michele Williams answered from where she sat in the courtroom.  Johnny saw her, and slunk down in his seat. "Knew she couldn't go three weeks," the judge said moving on to the next folder.  "Elsie Hester...is the mother present?" "Yes your honor," a woman answered.  "Mrs. Swanson, has Mrs. Hester made all of her sessions?" he asked of another caseworker. "She missed two your honor," Mrs. Swanson answered, coming forward in the courtroom. "You missed two Mrs. Hester?" "Just the two your honor.  I was sick and--" "That's WHY you are suppose to go to these sessions.  How many times has Elsie been removed from your care?" "I...I don't know your honor?" "You don't even know...try again next time Mrs. Hester, but don't bother if you miss another session." "But your honor?" "Andrea McCartney...is the--" "Right here," a woman answered. "And how are you today Miss McCartney?" "You tell me your honor." "Mrs. Swanson..." "Every session your honor." "Is that true Miss McCartney?" "Yes sir it is, you said go, and I went.  I want my daughter back." "Yes, I'm sure you do.  But, let's start with supervised visitation, all right.  AND KEEP GOING!" "I will your honor." "Stephanie Zimmerman..." "Mother's a no show your honor," Michele spoke out. "Kenneth McGuire..." "Mother's in jail, she was busted last night for..." "We don't need the details Mrs. Swanson." "Sorry your honor." "Adrian Vancouth..." "That's mine," a large burly man spoke up, stumbling as he stood. "Go home Mr. Vancouth, you are drunk." "I am not." "Bailiff." "That's not fair!  Just cause I'm a man...you can't throw me out!  I have rights too you know!" The judge took a deep breath, waiting until he could no longer hear the man's complaints as he shouted his way out of the building. "All right...let's see," he said shuffling through folders again.  "Coty McConnely...I thought the mother was deceased on this one." "She is your honor, I don't know how..." Michele started, wondering at the misplacement of the folder. "Have you yet been able to locate a father?" "Actually your honor--" "I'm right here your honor," Johnny answered, standing up to be seen. "OH!  All right...ahhh...Miss Williams, has he relinquished his rights to--" "Not yet your honor, he hasn't--" "Oh all right.  Mr. McConnely..." "Mr. Gage," Michele corrected for him. The judge continued to go through the file.  "Right, right, here it is.  John Roderick Gage.  Do we have verification from the blood--" "It's in there your honor," Michele answered again, "but--" "Good...good.  All right then.  Mr. Gage, do you wish to relinquish custody of the minor child Coty McConnely to the state at this time?" Johnny's mouth dropped open.  "I...I just wanted--" "You need to speak louder Mr. Gage." "Umm...NO sir, I mean your honor...I" "So be it, custody of the minor child Coty McConnely is placed with his father.  See the clerk Mr. Gage and she'll have you fill out some forms." "YOUR HONOR!" Michele interjected. "Yes Miss Williams." "Mr. Gage only just GOT here.  He--" "Miss Williams, has he surrendered his parental rights to the child?" "No but..." "Has he been convicted of a felony I don't know about?" "No your honor, but--" "Unless you want to start re-writing some of our laws Miss Williams, I suggest we move on.  Richard Ramsey..." Johnny left the courthouse, and made his way outside.  It couldn't be that easy, could it?  He dug in his Rover for a bottle of water, and tried to cool his dry throat.  Once he downed the entire bottle, he found he needed a rest room, so he went in search of one in the courthouse.  Drowning his face in the sink, he stared at his reflection in the mirror.  He still felt dazed as he walked back into the hall. "It's that way," a woman told him pointing.  Above the door indicated, Johnny saw a sign that read 'Court Clerk'.  He allowed himself to wander over and look inside. "Come in," another woman invited. "Umm...I uh..." "Name?" "John Gage." "Gage..Gage..Gage.." she chanted going through slips of paper. "OH...um...McConnely." "McConnely?" "Coty McConnely" "Oh yeah...I remember that one.  That's who you remind me of.  We still can't believe THAT one." "Coty?" "No, the whole thing, your know...fill these out?" "Oh...okay...I uh..." "The center will have you fill out a few more, but we need these for OUR records.  I know it's a hassle.  Oh you're from LA?  Wow!  I can't believe you came all this way to get him!  You must really miss him.  I don't know how a mother could do that...do you?" "Do what?" "LISA," a girl shouted into the office, "the coffee pot is going nuts again!" Lisa grabbed the completed forms, and tore him off a copy.  "Okay, take this and ...this over to the center, and you can pick him up." "LISA!" "I'm coming!" she shouted back as she raced from the room. Johnny walked back outside with his forms, and sat on the back of his Rover to read them.  At the moment he had full custody of his child; his son was his.  Ripping open the back door of the car, he started to dig around for the forms Michele had given him the day before.  Finding them, he read the ones, which surrendered his rights, and relinquished custody to the state.  He smoothed it out, and placed it on the passenger seat, side by side with the other form.  Keeping an eye on them both, he drove to the center. Five minutes later, the building loomed ahead of him, seeming twice as large as it had the day before.  With a strengthening breath, he strode purposefully inside and down the hall to the wire windowed office.  He carried with him both sets of papers.  "Yes," the bespectacled woman asked suspiciously. "I uh...I got custody of my son, and I--" he stuttered, handing her the wrong forms.  She looked at them, then glanced questioningly up at him.  Realizing his mistake, he snatched them back, and nervously handed over the correct ones.  She stared at him for several moments before looking at it.  "Oh Michele is going to love this!" she spoke facetiously. "Actually she didn't, can I see my son now?" "Of course, you have custody now, don't you?  Are you ah...planning on keeping it or--" "I want to see him now." "Sure," she replied, taking him herself.  She felt sure that a close encounter with the kid would acquire for her the signature on the form she so desired. The woman opened a classroom door, and Johnny was able to see a familiar face inside, teaching the class. "Angela," the lady interrupted, "I need Coty." "Coty?" Angela called. The dark-haired boy stared out the window, oblivious the entire room was looking at him. "Coty!" Angela called louder, without reaction. "Hey MORON!" one boy shouted out.  When the boy turned at the loud voice, the classroom erupted in laughter. "That's enough Richard!  Coty, you need to go with Mrs. Yancey." The boy laid his head down on the desk, turning his face toward the window. "McConnely!  Stand up and walk over here NOW!" Mrs. Yancey urged loudly. "Mrs. Yancey!  This is MY classroom.  We've been through this before!  I'll handle it." "Then please do," she replied sarcastically. "Coty, I expect you to get up and go with Mrs. Yancey." The boy bit his lip, and resigned to his fate, did as his teacher bid him.  Stiff legged, face cast downward, he made his way to the door.  A leg kicked out into his path, hitting the boy in the shin, and sprawling him to the floor. "RICHARD!  Get up and get into the corner now!" The boy laughed, but did as he was told.  Angela made a motion as if to help the small boy up, but did not touch him as he struggled shakily to his feet.  Johnny seethed inside.  What kind of a hell was this place?  It was no place for his son..was it?  As the boy came through the door, he made an attempt at placing his hand on the boy's shoulder.  He responded by backing away so violently, that he slammed into the opposite wall.  "To the office Coty," Mrs. Yancey ordered as if nothing had just occurred.  Johnny noticed a large bruise on the boy's cheek that he felt sure hadn't been there the day before. The boy moved on with the large lady at his heals.  Johnny started to follow. "You can't do that," Angela called after him. "What?" "You can't touch him.  You have to respect his space.  Anything else is dangerous and suspicious.  After all that happened...you understand," she told him as her room started to grow loud behind her. "What happened?" "They didn't tell you?!" "Tell me what?" "About how they found them all." "What are--" "Look, see if you can get his medical records, hopefully that will explain everything.  I gotta go."   With that she disappeared back into her classroom, closing the door, and shouting at various boys, trying to regain order.  Johnny considered knocking and asking more questions, but looking down the hall, he realized Mrs. Yancey and his son were no longer in sight; so he hurried after them.  He caught up with them, just as they entered the office. "Sit down," she ordered the boy. "Can we have a minute?" Johnny asked, holding the door open for her to leave. "A minute?" "Unless there is some other room I can talk to him in." "Oh...nooo...you can use this room.  I'll be outside." Johnny watched her go, and made sure the door closed all of the way behind her.  Her seeming amusement at his request bothered him, but he had other more pressing matters at hand.  His son sat before him, on a hard wooden chair in front of the desk.  He had his hands clasped together, and tucked firmly between his knees, his face pointed directly at his lap. "Hey there," Johnny said in his most friendly manner as he snatched another chair, and placed it to face the boy.  "You're Coty, right?"  The boy didn't move, or acknowledge his presence in any way.  "My name is Johnny.  John Gage.  Did they tell you at all about me...did your mom maybe...probably not, huh."  He leaned forward, trying to see up into the face of the boy of stone.  "Look, ah...man."  He rubbed at his face, wondering how much, if anything, to tell the kid.  "Tell you what...why don't we go get something to eat.  How does that sound?  Would you like to get outta here for a while?"  Johnny stood, placing his chair back where he'd grabbed it from, and pulled open the door.  He was not surprised to find Mrs. Yancey standing directly on the other side.  "I'm taking him for a ride," Johnny told her. "A ride?" "Yes, maybe get something to eat.  Is that...that's what I'm doing, just so you know." "Mr. Gage is it?" "Yes." "The worst thing you can do is play games with these kids.  Whatever it is you plan on doing with him...put him first, not yourself, and your own guilt complex.  Getting him an ice-cream, or whatever it is you plan to do, will be far more cruel than kind in the long run." Johnny looked back at the motionless boy in the chair.  She was right, and it was killing him inside.  He fingered the other papers in his pocket.  "How ah...how long will he be here?" "Pardon me?" "Before he'd get adopted, or at least a foster home?" "Oh, ah...each situation is different.  There's no definite answer to that question, but we do the best we can for each child." "I ah...I need to think!  I need to think.  Could you tell him...ah..." "Mr. Gage, I doubt he even heard you.  Whenever you're ready, even if it's late, you can ring the front bell.  I'll be here all night, and it rings in my room, so you know you can bring what you need to by at any time." "Yeah..okay..thanks.  I'm just gonna...need some air..." Johnny muttered as he hurried down the hall, and back to his Rover.  Angrily, he started the engine, and headed for the nearest freeway.  After twenty minutes of trying to work up the nerve, he pulled over, and finished filling out the forms Michele had originally given him.  Turning his car around, he drove as quickly as he could, back to the center to do what he had to do.  Apparently on a court recess for lunch, Michele, Mrs. Yancey, another lady, and a man stood in the little wire windowed office, shouting at the desk.  The man pounded on the top, while Mrs. Yancey rattled the drawers.  Johnny approached the doorway, wondering what had driven these people mad.  Michele saw him coming, and scooted out of the office to meet him. "What's going on?" he asked. "Nothing, can I help you?" "I uh...what's going on in there?" "Nothing we can't handle." "McConnely!  Get out of there, now!" Mrs. Yancey shouted, pounding on the top of the desk herself this time. "Excuse me!" Johnny said, sliding past her and into the doorway.  "What are you guys doing?!" "Trying to get the little twerp out," the man informed him.  "Out of where?" "From under the desk, what does it look like!" "Get out," Johnny ordered him. "Look pal, who do you think you are coming in here and telling us--" onto part 2